


Bowie

by LezZeppelin



Series: Crimson and Clover [3]
Category: Bandom, Cherie Currie - Fandom, Glam Rock RPF, Joan Jett - Fandom, Rock Music RPF, The Runaways (2010), The Runaways (2010) RPF, The Runaways (Band)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Band Fic, Bandom - Freeform, Comedy, Cute, David Bowie - Freeform, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Girl Band, Girl x Girl, Girl/Girl, Girl/Girl Romance, Glam Rock, Glam Rock RPF - Freeform, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, RPF, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll, Romance, Teenagers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, light - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LezZeppelin/pseuds/LezZeppelin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cherie is practically in love with him and Joan just doesn't like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bowie

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Just a light/fluffy oneshot because Jealous!Joan is too much fun.

Joan has never understood Cherie’s complete and utter adoration and in her opinion, slightly freakish obsession with David Bowie. 

Sure, Joan likes Bowie a lot; she is a huge fan, as any self-respecting Glam lover would be. Cherie takes fanatical to the next level though. Pictures of his face covered her bedroom walls, she wears t-shirts with his name on it, owns all of his albums, knows the lyrics to his songs by heart, had once painted her face and dyed her hair in Aladdin Sane-esque fashion for a school talent show...

She swears that if the man appeared randomly out of thin air and proposed marriage to her Cherie wouldn’t hesitate to say yes….

Not that he will…the fairy.

It makes Joan sick. Somehow the more Cherie pines over him the more she finds to dislike about him- even things she had previously loved about Bowie somehow turn into more reasons to detest him. She finds herself wondering what the girl could possibly see in the effeminate, bony, pale, British….

“If I had to imagine my perfect man….well, he would probably be exactly like this!” Cherie announces, pressing her lips to Bowie’s face on one of the Ziggy Stardust era posters which adorn her wall. The two girls are hanging out in her room after practice with the rest of the band in the trailer.

“Don’t make me sick” Joan scowls, with a dramatic, gagging sound and rolls her eyes.

“Oh, shut up” Cherie quips back but the smile doesn’t leave her face as she swoons over her shrine, Joan watching her from her spot, perched on the edge of the frontwoman’s bed. The blonde tilts her head and bats her eyelashes, blushing a little and her light blue eyes lose some of their focus, a dreamy look coming over her. “He’s so…beautiful” she sighs, breathily. 

The black-haired girl makes a face, realizing that her bandmate is obviously lost in some creepy lala land where she and her “thin prince” are walking down a beach, holding hands in the sunset or something. Something nauseating like that…

Joan sighs loudly, grabbing at her own hair, exasperated. She doesn’t know why this whole thing irks her so much…but it does.

“For fuck’s sake, Cherie!” She growls, throwing her hands up in frustration, “He’s cool and all but even you have to admit, the man is weird as fuck and fruitier than…well…let’s just put it this way, I bet you he wouldn’t even fuck you if you paid him right now”

Cherie gasps, looking scandalized. “He so would!” She insists. “He likes girls too!”

Joan shakes her head, trying to get her bandmate to understand. “He might not even know how to anymore. Shit, even I could probably fuck you better than…”

The guitarist realizes her slip seconds after she says it and her face burns red as an unusually awkward silence falls between them. How could she have been stupid enough to actually...actually say it like that…

Joan knows that she has probably managed to creep the hell out of the other girl unintentionally with that sort of comment.

Deep down, Joan knows exactly why her slip has made things so tense between them. If she had said the same thing around the rest of the band or any of her other friends in general they would all have found it hilarious or at least not taken it seriously at all. They would have given her shit for it, naturally…but it would never have been so…awkward. Things are…different…between Joan and Cherie. She doesn’t know what is going on but she feels like she has inadvertently brought up something which they have both been carefully avoiding for a very long time.

Joan wants nothing more than to evaporate on the spot. 

“Do you…want to…?” Cherie speaks up hesitantly, clearing her throat, after the long moment, finally taking away from some of the uncomfortable weight that has settled between them, her face turning bright pink.

She shouldn’t find her shy voice and her flushed face as cute as she does. 

Joan cocks her head, still utterly embarrassed and now utterly confused to add to that. “W-what?”

“Fuck me?” The blonde girl squeaks, covering her face with her hands, as she flops down on her back beside Joan on her small bed.

Joan snaps her head around to look at her, her jaw dropping slightly at the singer’s words. She notices that Cherie is avoiding her eyes nervously, still flushed- but she knows that it is nothing compared to the redness of her own face. She guesses her own expression must be pretty comical in that moment.

“Seriously?” She blurts immediately, sounding way more eager than she intends to, her voice cracking a little.

“Yeah…I mean…if you want to…but I never did it before like this- and it’d have to be super quick cause Marie and the others are gonna be home in like half an hour…not that I’m fucking begging you or anything-“ 

Cherie rambles on and Joan smiles. That is just one of the million adorable things she loves about the blonde…her tendency to rant when she is scared as all fuck. Cherie is a lot of things. On stage she is a violent vixen, bursting with confidence and oozing seduction. In real life she mostly wears a mask of a similar brand of sneering, rebellious bravado. 

She can be loud, obnoxious, selfish, bratty, whiny and a bit of a diva. But even when she’s like that Joan can’t help but adore her. She is like the whining, attention-seeking puppy that you still can’t help but adore because it looks up at you with big, innocent eyes and everything about it was so fucking cute. Every so often the real Cherie shows through- the Cherie who is sweet, vulnerable, shy, a tad bit insecure and ever so fragile. Joan knows she likes that side of her the most.

“…but that was probably a stupid fucking thing to say in the first place-“

The black-haired girl smirks and pounces, cutting her off with her own mouth, wrapping her arms around her tiny waist, smiling through the kiss at the surprised “eep” that escapes from her throat. 

Joan definitely feels protective of Cherie. The girl has been through a lot- probably more than any of them have- she had been kicked when she was down and she still had the bruises to show it. Joan knows she feels the agonies that come with their business more acutely than the rest of them do. Deep down, behind her feisty demeanor, she is soft. Even after all she has done and been through. Joan hates to see how life on the road has jaded her. 

She constantly feels the urge to comfort Cherie- to soothe her worries and make her feel loved in their world of rock n’ roll where everything constantly seems to derail everything a person stands for, chew them up and spit them out unremorsefully and everyday, just performing for a crowd feels almost like going out on the battlefield.

The black-haired punk quickly loses her train of thought as Cherie tries to pull her in closer, her thin arms around her back, pulling more of her weight onto her. Joan kisses her hard- so hard that she knows the girl’s thin lips will be bruised and swollen later but still feels like she can’t hold back. She wants- no needs- to pour all of her feelings out into this one act.

Cherie gradually relaxes into the kiss, opening her mouth for Joan to explore it with her tongue. Joan pulls back to breath heavily and tugs at the bottom of her t-shirt pointedly and blonde sits up and lifts her arms up so Joan can pull it over her head. She sighs, lying back on the bed and arching into the feel of Joan’s searing lips on her chest, one of her rough hands slipping under her back to unclip her bra.

__________________________________________________

Joan rolls over onto her back, panting hard. She likes this…just being here like this. Cherie’s bed is soft and the sheets are white and clean. Perhaps more importantly, every inch of it smells like her.

She can feel the sweat dripping down her pale body and pushes her sweaty hair out of her face with her hand, turning her head on the side to look at Cherie. The other girl is lying in a similar position, her slender body on display, her bleached hair wild and her cheeks still flushed. She is breathing hard like they have just finished a gig and Joan’s eyes focus on her heaving chest.

Joan smirks happily, unable to resist the temptation of adding in, “Better than Bowie…”

She laughs and Cherie smiles, scoffing and hits her on the arm playfully.

“You don’t know that” She teases.

Joan frowns. “Of course I know, I can fuck better than-“

She cuts herself off when Cherie leans in closer, stroking her cheek and throwing her a knowing, mischievous look that takes Joan aback and makes her feel a bit…intimidated. Not that she will ever admit to the latter.

“You are so jealous”

The raven-haired girl scowls, blushing a bit against her will and turns away, rolling onto her side to face the other direction.

“Not” She mumbles.

Cherie giggles, resting her face against the guitarist’s lean but strong back, throwing a thin arm over her waist and poking her in the side playfully. Her bandmate shivers in response and flinches away from her.

“You are”

“Oh fuck it!” Joan rolls over again to glare at the girl, when her taunting and laughter become a little too much for her pride to handle.

She pushes Cherie down on the bed, grabbing her by the wrists and arches over her.

The singer gasps, blue eyes wide, the impish expression leaving her face instantly. “It’s only a joke, Joanie”

A devilish smile reaches Joan’s lips as the tables are turned, Cherie now flustering under her gaze. She chuckles slightly, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“I am” She confesses, watching the girl shudder slightly as goosebumps rise on her skin. She pulled back, her arms on either side of Cherie’s head and watches the blonde smile up at her.

Joan’s dark, narrowed gaze travels down her slim body and she licks her lips.

“We’re doing this again” She declares, muffling her protests with a kiss.


End file.
